Justice
by Nihongi
Summary: James Sunderland finally left the nightmare that was Silent Hill with his new love, Maria. But, is he doomed to repeat the horrible past that plagued him before?
1. Chapter 1

**Justice**

**This story is dedicated to the memory of Sandra Mellisa Kelly (1986 - 2007). May your flame live on forever in our hearts**

Timothy D. Tucker

Chapter 1

A small butterfly bobbed and weaved its way through the thick fog of Rosewater Park. Its ceraceous wings guided the small creature over the sparkling emeralds of Toluca Lake and high into the night sky. James Sunderland apathetically watched the creature from the lake deck. The weight of what he had did still bore deeply on his soul. He had murdered his beloved for a second time. The image of her writhing, distorted body permanently etched to her deathbed will forever haunt him for all of his days. James winced as a gust of cold air blew in from the lake. He could remember the times that he and his beloved spent at this lake, taking in the magnificent view, just the two of them...

"You killed Mary again?"

The soft, sensual voice of a female cut through the silence. It was so close it sounded as if it was coming from James mind. He continued to stare at the glistening water.

"That wasn't Mary. Mary's gone. That was just something I...Maria? Maria..." James could not bear to look at her face, but he knew that he was powerless to resist. _The woman that resembled his deceased wife, the woman that he truly loved. Maria._

"What James?"

It was now or never. He had failed with Mary, he was too weak and careless, and it had cost her her life. But now, he could redeem himself. Maria was a divine benediction. He would not fail this time.

"I want you. I want you with...with me."

James and Maria finally faced each other. He could see the hesitation in her soft, blue eyes. It was the same look of uncertainty that he saw in Mary's eyes towards the end.

"Are you sure?"

"C'mon, let's get out of here." James was about to turn around and head back to his car when Maria stopped him.

"What about Mary?"

The realization was becoming painfully clear to James. As long as he had Maria, everything was going to be just fine.

"It's ok. I have you."

Maria reached into her pocket and removed a white envelope. James recognized it as the exact letter Mary had sent to him, the letter beckoning him back to their "special place", in Silent Hill.

_In my restless dreams,_ _I see that town._ _Silent Hill._ _You promised you'd take me_ _there again someday._ _But you never did._ _Well I'm alone there now..._ _In our "special place"_ _Waiting for you..._ _Waiting for you to_ _come to see me._ _But you never do._ _And so I wait, wrapped in my_ _cocoon of pain and loneliness._ _I know I've done a terrible_ _thing to you. Something you'll_ _never forgive me for._ _I wish I could change_ _that, but I can't._ _I feel so pathetic and ugly_ _laying here, waiting for you..._ _Every day I stare up at the cracks_ _in the ceiling and all I can think_ _about is how unfair it all is..._ _The doctor came today._ _He told me I could go_ _home for a short stay._ _It's not that I'm getting better._ _It's just that this may be_ _my last chance..._ _I think you know what I mean..._ _Even so, I'm glad to be coming_ _home. I've missed you terribly._ _But I'm afraid James._ _I'm afraid you don't really_ _want me to come home._ _Whenever you come see me,_ _I can tell how hard it is on you..._ _I don't know if you_ _hate me or pity me..._ _Or maybe I just disgust you..._ _I'm sorry about that._ _When I first learned that_ _I was going to die, I just_ _didn't want to accept it._ _I was so angry all the time and I_ _struck out at everyone I loved most._ _Especially you, James._ _That's why I understand_ _if you do hate me._ _But I want you to_ _know this, James._ _I'll always love you._ _Even though our life together had_ _to end like this, I still wouldn't_ _trade it for the world. We had_ _some wonderful years together._ _Well this letter has gone on_ _too long so I'll say goodbye._ _I told the nurse to give_ _this to you after I'm gone._ _That means that as you read this,_ _I'm already dead._ _I can't tell you to remember me,_ _but I can't bear for you to_ _forget me._ _These last few years since I_ _became ill...I'm so sorry for_ _what I did to you, did to us..._ _You've given me so much and_ _I haven't bee able to return_ _a single thing._ _That's why I want you to live_ _for yourself now._ _Do what's best for you, James._ _James..._ _You made me happy._ There was nothing left for the two of them in Silent Hill. Mary was gone, but there was still hope. The two of them made their way back to the observation deck parking lot where James had first arrived. It was time to leave. As they made their way to James car, Maria suddenly doubled over and began violently coughing. James awkwardly stared at her hunched over frame. After her spasm, their eyes met, and James had the eerie sensation that this was all too familiar. "You'd better do something about that cough..." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

START RECORDING **_Today is September 24th, 2001. My name is Douglas Cartland. I am a private investigator assigned by one Frank Sunderland to participate in a "missing persons" case. For the sake of my investigation, I will be recording my findings for future references. The persons in question include one James Sunderland, Caucasian male , aged 29, a clerk from South Ashfield, and the son of Frank Sunderland , and one Mary Shepard Sunderland, Caucasian female, aged 27, unemployed. According to Mr. Frank Sunderland, Mary was diagnosed with a mysterious illness that left her bed ridden about three years ago. She was taken in under the care of one Dr. Gary Goodman, a registered physician in the town of Brahms, Maine. Apparently, James quit his job to tend to his wife 24/7. I can imagine it must have been very difficult on such a young couple. _**

_**It was a week ago that James and Mary Sunderland went missing. Mary's physical condition was not getting any better, so the doctor gave her permission to visit her home, most likely the last chance she will ever have. While in the care of her husband, they both just simply vanished. I am not one to jump to conclusions, but Mary being the victim of abduction by her partner does not seem so far fetched. Frank mentioned that James and Mary had a special tie to the town of **_(Cartland rummages through some papers) **_Silent Hill it looks like. That's where I will start my investigation. Maybe James wanted to be with his dying wife in their special place. Poor Guy. Must be devastating._**END RECORDING


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

James sped down Route 26 in his blue Ford Victoria. Maria was comfortably asleep in the passengers seat. Her coughing had subsided for now, but James was still wary. James took his eye off of the road to admire her. Her shoulder length blond hair was splayed messily across her beautiful face. James felt his eyes scanning the round bust of her chest, watching the rhythmic rise of her chest. His eyes lowered to the rim of her pink and black mini skirt. He wanted so desperately to reach out and touch the smooth, milky white skin of her legs.To him, Maria was a Goddess. She was everything that Mary was not. Her provocative clothing aroused James more than the way she touched him, more than the way she would hold him. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, James slowly reached out and caressed the smooth surface of her thigh. Maria softly moaned, almost purr like, and shifted in her sleep. James hand went up towards the opening of her skirt. If only he could feel her...

_HONNNKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

James looked up just in time to see the oncoming headlights of a semi truck, hurtling straight at them.

"Jesus!!!!!" James violently whipped the car to the left, narrowly avoiding contact with the truck. Maria was jostled awake by the ensuing commotion. She let out a wail of surprise as her body was thrown up against James. James tried to regain control over the car but it was too late, as they careened off of the road and came to rest on the side of the road. James tightly gripped the steering wheel, his body ached with fear induced adrenaline. Beside him, Maria was heavily breathing. Her body was rigid and tense with anxiety.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? You could have got us killed!!" She snapped.

Still clutching the steering wheel, James stumbled for words. _Oh God, we could have been killed, how could I have been so reckless? _

"I'm sorry."

Maria's cool blue eyes seemed to fade for a moment, and then, with a force that James thought a woman could not possess, she took hold of his collar, nearly pulling him out of his seat and towards her face.

"YOU"RE SORRY!!?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU"RE SORRY!!?? IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!? WE WERE ALMOST KILLED!!!"

She shoved James back into his seat. Her eyes were locked menacingly on his. She was like a woman possessed, and then, just as fast as her rage had come, it quickly subsided in another coughing fit. She doubled over with her head between her legs and expectorated. Her slim shoulders heaved up and down as she tried to talk between breaths.

"I...got...I gotta get outta...here."

Before James could stop her, Maria darted out of the car. "Maria, wait!!" She stumbled through the darkness and came to rest in a thicket of bushes. James noticed that a thick fall was coming down, casting a eerie glow over the surrounding area. James followed Maria into the deep thicket, careful not to get too close.

"Maria..."

Maria was getting worse. Her coughing had turned to a fierce torrent of vomit. James wanted so desperately to comfort her, but he knew whatever he could do would be pointless. He could not fathom what was plaguing her, but he could feel the familiarity in her agony. This unnerving sense of deja vu was overwhelming, and suddenly James found himself remembering his late wife Mary. The way her illness had spread during the final stages of her life. _No, not like this, please God..._

"James." Maria was sobbing. Her face was turning a deathly pallor of white, and deep bags were starting to crease the beautiful ovals of her eyes.

"James...James I'm scared!" Maria ran to James and deeply embraced him. Her sudden affection took James by surprise. He was becoming weary of her mercurial temperament. "I don't know what's happening to me!! Tell me what's happening to me!!" Maria was crying hysterically now. James gently stroked the back of her hair. _If Maria is coming down with the same illness as Mary, then there isn't much time_, James grimly thought. There was only one man that could possibly help her. The same doctor that treated Mary in the city of Brahams three years ago. Maybe more research had gone into the mysterious illness, maybe there was a cure. It was there only option. "Everything is going to be okay." James tried to assure her. He tried to sound firm and controlling, but even he could detect the tremor in his voice. "Everything is going to be okay."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

START RECORDING**_ Cartland here. I finally arrived in Silent Hill from my home office to begin my investigation. Even though James and Mary Sunderland's trail had admittedly gone cold since their last sighting, I have been able to conjure up a list of possible locations of their whereabouts. I started my investigation at the Brookhaven Hospitable in uptown Silent Hill. The reason for beginning here was quite clear. If Mary was in fact still sick, then it was perfectly feasible for James to bring her here. Upon checking the hospitables medical files, I discovered that Mary Shepard Sunderland was in fact not admitted at Brookhaven. On an unrelated note, I did notice that this particular hospitable had an abnormally high rate of patients with mental disorders._**

_** Next, was the Lakeview Hotel on the outskirts of town. According to a diary obtained from Mary's personal effects left behind, she and James had stayed in that hotel three years ago when they visited Silent Hill. I honestly did not know what I was expecting to find, but it was all I had to go on. The Lakeview hotel is marked with a violent history of corruption and murder. Apparently, it was a broad front for drug trafficking throughout the late 90's. A fire destroyed most of the upper level two years ago, but I was able to obtain something interesting left behind from their stay. During their stay at the Lakeview Hotel, James apparently left a home video tape in the room they were staying in. The tape really does not leave much to the imagination, but probably gives more information on the time line of her illness. Maybe I am looking in the wrong place. I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Gary Goodman in Brahams. Maybe understanding the severity of her illness will shed more light on my investigation. **_STOP RECORDING


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

James and Maria arrived at the three floor hospice in Brahmas, Maine, to seek the aid of Dr. Gary Goodman. The old Victorian style abode brought back painful memories for James, but this was his only option. Maria was fast asleep in the passengers side. Since their scare back on Route 26 en route to Brahmas, Maria's condition had gotten worse. She barely talked the whole while but James knew what was ailing her. He knew that the illness was effecting her motor skills and temperament. He Knew that she was developing a terrible fever and slowly becoming weaker. He knew this because he had witnessed his late wife endure this.

"Come on Maria, we're here."

Maria opened her baggy, bloodshot eyes and focused om James. Then, for the first time since she started developing symptoms, she smiled. She reached up and placed one pale hand against James's cheek. "You know that the doctor is going to be suspicious, right?"

James had not thought of that. What were the odds of finding another woman that was identical to his late wife, and then having her fall victim to the same illness that took his wife? It would be almost impossible to try to explain Maria's presence in all of this, and to justify what he had done to Mary...

"Don't worry about it." James assured her. "I'll do all the talking."

James helped Maria out of the car and up to the front door of the hospice. As James approached the entrance, he found himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. His throat became dry and scratchy and a cold sweat ran down his spine. With fingers that felt cold and distant he rung the doorbell twice and waited. The weight of Maria's body made him feel weak, so much that he had to strain as to not topple over himself. James could hear the locks being undone from the other side, and the door opened. A young blond nurse stood in the foyer to greet them. James recognized the girl as the nurse that took care of Mary in the final years of her life, Rachael. Her youthful blue eyes went wide with what looked to be recognition.

"Mr. Sunderland! We were worried sick about you! Why did you just up and leave like that!? Where have you been!?"

James avoided her questions. He needed to see the doctor now.

"Where is Dr. Goodman? It's urgent."

Nurse Rachael eyed him suspiciously. _I wonder if she will ask about Maria. _James thought nervously. She moved closer to him, so close that James could smell her fragrant perfume. "Mr. Sunderland, what's going on? Where's Mary?"

James was at a lost for words. He turned his confused gaze to Maria who met his stare with incredulous contempt. "She's...she's...she's..."James voice broke into sobs. He could feel Maria's cold hand clasp around his. Rachael gently touched his arm to silence him. "Shhhhhhhh. It's ok Mr. Sunderland. Come, I'll take you to see Dr. Goodman." She took hold of his arm and led him from the foyer into the living area. Maria silently followed behind them as they made their way up to the second floor office where Dr. Gary Goodman worked. Rachael lightly rapped on the door and called the doctor.

"Excuse me, Dr. Goodman. You have a visitor, it's urgent."

James could hear the doctors voice come from the other side of the door. He had a flat, dull voice that expelled no emotion. It had often been hard to listen to him diagnose Mary in this tone, but he could understand that in this profession you often became accustomed to the truncated span of life. "Rachael, I thought I was clear when I told you no visitors today."

James could feel Maria gripping his hand tighter. Her nails dug into his flesh deeper and deeper. James could feel warm blood escaping and dripping into his palm.

"Dr. Goodman, it's James Sunderland." Rachael insisted.

There was a brief silence from behind the door and then the frantic pace of footsteps. Moments later the door swung open and Dr. Gary Goodman stood before them. He was a squat man with wire rimmed glasses and a balding head. He offered a pudgy hand to James and beckoned them inside.

"Mr. Sunderland!! Thank God you're alright! What happened to you and Mary!?"

Maria loosened her vice like grip on James and averted her eyes to the floor. James and Maria took a seat at the doctors desk and made themselves comfortable. _It's felt like years since I've been in here. _Dr. Goodman was an avid collector of paintings, most of them originating from the town of Silent Hill. A picturesque canvas of Toluca lake overlooked the desk, and James found himself becoming increasingly nervous once more.

"James, why did you take Mary and leave? We were doing everything we could do to help her."

Out of the corner of his eye, James could see Maria staring stoically ahead. She had not said a single word since arriving in the hospice.

"Mr. Sunderland..."

James focused his attention back on Dr. Goodman. His dark eyes were fixed intensely on James as if he were trying to read his mind. "Where is Mary Mr. Sunderland?"

James's pulse began to quicken. He tried to look elsewhere but everywhere he turned he feel the doctors cold eyes piercing him. _Just look at Maria! She's right next to me! Mary is right next to me..._

"Mary is in South Ashfield, with your father..."

The words unexpectedly came from Maria. Her voice was strong and commanding. James stared at her in bewilderment. Her eyes continued to stare absently ahead, betraying all signs of the pain she was going through. "Wh...what?" James stammered. _What is she saying?_

"Tell him that Mary is staying in South Ashfield with your father." She repeated.

"MR. SUNDERLAND!!" James attention was snapped back to Dr. Goodman. This was the first time that he had ever heard him raise his voice. "Mr. Sunderland, where is you wife?"

This was becoming too much. Maria was sitting right next to him, but yet the doctor acted as if she wasn't there at all. James took a deep breath and repeated the lines that Maria spoke.

"Mary is...Mary is staying out in South Ashfield with my father."

James could see Dr. Goodman's eyes narrow. He was scanning James's face for anything, anything at all. "Why did you take her there? Weren't we doing enough to help her?"

Maria once again intervened on James's behalf. "Tell him that there was nothing they could do for her. Mary was happier being with you James." James could feel his tension lifting. That's what he would hope to believe, that she was the most happiest with him in the final days of her life.

"There was nothing you could do for her. She wanted to be with me before...before she passed."

James could see Dr. Goodman accept what he had just told him."Mr. Sunderland, I can understand the generosity of your actions, but just taking your wife like that, out of our care...how is she doing?"

James felt a stab of regret at the doctors inquire. "She's hanging in there." He lied. "I guess now all we can do is wait. Funeral arrangements have already been taken of when the day comes." Dr. Goodman let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Sunderland, despite all of the advances in medical technology, we let this one allude us, and it has cost you dearly."

"Yeah..." James replied somberly. "Yes it has." James could feel his eyes began to water. A thick lump was forming in his throat and single tear ran down his cheek. "Nothing new has been discovered on Mary's illness?"

Dr. Goodman shook his head. "I have never seen anything like this in all my profession."

James was heavily crying now. "Bu...but...but what about Maria?" Dr. Goodman looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Pardon me? What do you mean?" James placed a hand on Maria's shoulder and squeezed. "She's right h...here! Y...you...you don't see her!?" The doctor stared at him with what looked to be confusion, then he expression changed to one of unmistakable pity. "Mr. Sunderland...there's no one else here."

James wiped away his tears and composed himself. He couldn't afford to break down now. "I have to leave." He told the doctor. He rose from his chair and Maria did likewise. "Mr. Sunderland, you mentioned a name...Maria. Is this "Maria" in here with us?"

James forced a smile. "No, there is no one else in the room. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

James turned and headed for the door. He could hear the heels of Maria's pumps clicking behind him. "Wait! Are you sure you're are alright?" James turned and looked at the doctor. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

As James and Maria made their way back to the car , Maria suddenly doubled over in another coughing rage. "James...I'm real, right?"

Maria's bloodshot eyes were fixated on James. She placed her hand on his face and gently stroked his cheek. "James, I am real. Don't you feel how warm I am? See?" Maria pulled her hand away, and James saw that the tips of her fingers were covered in blood. His blood, from where she had dug her nails into the palm of his hand and he had wiped his tears away. James stared at the crimson mess staining her pale fingers. "See James!? Don't you see!? I'm real, I'm re..."

Maria collapsed into James's arms. He gently stroked the back of her head and whispered into her ear. "_I know you're real. From the moment I first laid eyes on you I knew you were real._" He gently placed her in the passengers seat and got behind the wheel. It was time to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

START RECORDING **_Cartland here. I had arrived at the hospice where Mary Shepard Sunderland was nursed. It is an old building, built in pre Civil War days and featuring a plethora of renovations over the years. Dr. Goodman was kind enough to arrange a meeting with him in his office. What I learned from the doctor was rather interesting, to say the least. Apparently. James Sunderland had visited Dr. Goodman not too long ago. He was described by the doctor and his assistant as agitated and nervous. What's more, is the fact that James told the doctor that Mary was staying in South Ashfield with his father. This is clearly a lie, as Frank Sunderland was the one that reported the two missing. Dr. Goodman also mentioned that James could be suffering from some sort of mental shock stemming from his wifes illness. He mentioned a name, "Maria", claiming she was present in the room with the two of them. When Dr. Goodman pressed the issue of this "Maria", James quickly denied his ramblings. It's needless to say that I have a bad feeling about this new development. Mary is placed is considerably more danger if James is indeed suffering from a mental breakdown. I have my own theories about what could be going on inside his head, but I'm not a doctor nor psychiatrist. Facts can only tell so much of a story, and right now, we're running out of facts. _**END RECORDING


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

What little hope James had for Maria's wellbeing was slowly dwindling. After leaving Dr. Goodman's hospice, James and Maria drove through the streets of Brahams for hours, finally coming to rest at a seedy motel on the outskirts of town. James remembered the degenerate looking youth at the front desk, caustically eying him from head to toe.

"Staying here alone?" The youth asked.

James remembered staring down at the cluttered front desk in shame. A sick feeling was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach and James felt his heart sink. Maria was sitting in a worn a battered chair next to the entrance, in plain sight of the youth seated behind the desk. "Hmmmmm?" The youth inquired again. James could hear a sort of mockery tone in his voice.

"Yeah...yes, I am" James answered while looking down at the shabby desk, he could not bear to look him in the eyes.

"Well, here you go." The youth handed James the hotel room keys, which were attached to a small statuette of a black Shiba Inu puppy. _Room #23_ the tag had said. "Thank you."

That was about four hours ago. Now, Maria laid in the seamy motel room, bed ridden to the moth eaten mattress. She was completely incapacitated, the same way Mary was before her death. The room was dark, the only light coming from the setting sun seeping behind the drawn curtains. James sat next to her bedside for hours, delicately stroking her head to soothe her. She would often become very disgusted at him, screaming and spewing insults, then she would cry and plead James to help her. These were the same mercurial mood swings that made him sick of Mary in the end. James stared around the cramped motel room. There was an aura that was somehow comforting to him. The room was shifting, becoming something more familiar. James walked over to the curtains and drew them tighter, casting the room in almost complete darkness.

"James..."

Maria's voice was so soft that James barely heard her. He moved over to her bedside and took hold of her hand

"James..." She whispered again.

"What is it Maria?" He can tell it was taking her great pains to talk but she was determined to say whatever it was to say.

"I...I'm glad I met you." Her eyes were gleaming with tears now. James wiped them away with the back of his hand. "Before I met you, I didn't know who I was. My entire life before was just one big blur. But then I met a man. His name was Ernest Baldwin. He...he told me about you. I don't know what it was then but something inside of me stirred at the sound of your name, like I was remembering something I knew I possibly shouldn't. When I met you in the park, I knew...I knew that I was yours..." Tears ran down her pale face. James stared at her with an emotionless glare.

"We saved each other James..." She continued. "We saved each other from a terrible fate. I know that you question my existence. I know that you are afraid, and uncertain, but I'm real James." She slowly caressed James's arm. "The way we touched, the way we kissed, the way you held me...it was all real."

James continued to stroke her hair, innocuously reaching for the pillow behind her head. "James..." tell me I'm going to be alright...tell me I'm going to live!"

A thin smile spread across James's lips. He continued to gently stroke her hair. _Don't worry Maria. _He thought bitterly. Maria stared at him with red, watery eyes, then, James violently whipped the pillow from behind her head and forcefully shoved it into her face. Maria's hands darted to the pillow to try to force it off, but James was too strong for her. She clawed and scratched at James's hands and arms, leaving deep cuts in his skin. James pushed harder and harder, further smothering her in a cloud of rage. Maria's resistance became less frantic, and finally, her arms dropped lifelessly onto the bed. The only sound now was the sound of James crying. His tears fell onto the pillow still covering Maria's face. _Sleep now Maria. Sleep._

Douglas Cartland aimlessly drove through the the streets of Brahams with the Sunderland case weighing heavily in his mind. After he had left the hospice, a quick phone call to Frank Sunderland confirmed that he had not had any contact with his son or daughter in law for over a week. He could understand Frank's motives not to get the police involved and just dealing with a PI, but maybe this case was just too personal for him. _Yeah, they find the guy, and he gets hit up with kidnapping or involuntary manslaughter at worst. _Douglas thought grimly. He was fresh out of leads, exhausted, and quite frankly fed up with the whole private investigation business.

Douglas sighed and looked at himself in the rear view mirror. _Yeah, maybe I'm getting a little too old for this anyway. _Wrinkles were beginning to form on his rugged features and his hair was graying, giving him a worn look. His eyes wandered down to the open locket hanging from the rear view mirror, and suddenly he found himself remembering the family that he had. The family that he lost.

Inside the locket was a picture of his wife and late son. They were happy back then. There wasn't much in terms of money, but they had always managed to look past that and pull together. One day, Douglas's son had decided that love and family wasn't enough, so he decided to rob a bank and was killed in the process. After that incident, the grief was too much for his wife to bear, who left him shortly after. That was nearly twenty years ago.

Since then, Douglas became a private investigator as a way to redeem himself and become the opposite of his son. To uphold the law and distribute justice, even if that "justice" was just busting cheating husbands and flagging crooked loan sharks. Douglas continued driving and eventually came to a Shell Motel on the outskirts of town. He parked his car and grabbed his portable tape deck to inspect their contents. He needed something to take his mind off the painful memories of his family. He placed the first tape in the recorder and rewound it. When it was finished, he pressed play and listened. There was a heavy silence that was not present when he had first recorded. _What the hell? Is this thing broken? _Douglas hit fast forward and stopped when he heard a voice. It was a males voice, a deep monotonous drawl, but not his own. "What the hell?" Douglas listened closely to the mysterious voice that had taken over his tape recorder.

**"Sometimes, it is easier to run from the problems that plague us, for some of us are not brave enough to wade through the valley of darkness alone. The one you seek is one such individual. His bridge of sin has broken beneath his feet and cast him down to the deepest level of depravity. What he seeks now is any iota of redemption that he can find for his crimes. He is a dangerous man, one that has taken everything away from himself but yet stills denies his evil doing. If he really wanted to see her again, he would just kill himself, but he would probably end up in a totally different place if he did that. The man you seek is close by. Find him. He must pay for the despicable crime he has committed. Find him.**

Douglas sat dumbfounded at what he had just heard on his tape recorder. _What? How? _His mind was racing. He stepped out of his car ant took a look around. The sky was beginning to darken and a thick fog was coming in, encompassing him from every direction. Douglas scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes came to rest upon a car parked in front of the motel. It looked to be a blue Ford, Crown Victoria model, the same car that James Sunderland drove. Douglas approached the car with caution. As he got closer, he could tell for a fact that this was indeed Sunderland's car. He took a glance through the drivers window and saw that the inside of the car was in extreme disarray. Food wrappers and other miscellaneous junk littered the inside of the car. Several maps were sprawled out over the back seat and what appeared to be a green cargo jacket was messily splayed across the floor. _Looks like somebody threw a party and dumped it all in this guys car. _Douglas moved to the rear of the car and examined the trunk. To his surprise, he saw that it was slightly ajar. With one hand Douglas lifted the trunk and peered inside. There was a large brown bag piled haphazardly into the trunk. A strong smell resonated from the bag, and Douglas immediately became afraid of what he knew could be in there. _God, not like this. Please tell me he didn't. _With shaky hands, Douglas reached inside the trunk and unfastened the bag at its opening. He slowly pulled back the opening and recoiled in horror at what he saw. He was staring into the lifeless face of Mary Shepard Sunderland. Her once neatly groomed hair hung loose and messy on her head. Her mouth hung open in a look of shock and pain and her blue eyes were heavily rolled in the back of her head. Judging by the smell, she must have been in her for at least a week. _The bastard. _Douglas thought angrily. He gently placed the bag over her head and closed the trunk. He turned his gaze to the Shell Motel where James Sunderland was probably hiding. _It looks like the mystery is nearly solved. _He had found Mary. Now all was left for him to do was to apprehend her killer; her own husband. Douglas entered the motel and briskly walked to the front desk. Douglas was visibly nervous and a young man behind the desk eyed him with a look of suspicion.

"Yeah, May I help you?" He asked

Douglas reached into his pocket and removed the picture that Frank Sunderland had given him to help find his son and daughter in law.

"I'm looking for the man in this photo. I have reason to believe that he is in this motel. Have you seen him?"

Douglas tried to remain as firm as possible, but even he could detect the slight tremor in his voice. The man behind the counter smiled and brushed him off. "What are you? Some sort of cop? Sorry, but I just can't go giving out business like that."

Douglas pressed further. "Please, this is important, I just need to know what room he is staying in." The man rolled his eyes and stopped him. "Look, I can't give out that type of info to just some random dude, alright!?"

Douglas sighed and put the photo back into his pocket. He was going to have to play it his way. He couldn't get the image of Mary's deceased face out of his mind, it motivated him. With a burst of speed, he reached over the desk and grabbed the man by his collar. He pulled him over the desk and put his face inches from his.

"Listen you little shit! There's a dead girl in one of those cars out there, and guess what!? One of the people you let into this shitty piss hole is the one that killed her!! So tell me, what room is the man in the photo staying in!?"

Douglas shoved the desk clerk back into his chair and glared at him with indignation. He could see the fear in the mans eyes. He had broke him.

"Y...yeah, I sa...saw him! He's staying in r...room 23!"

_Room 23. _Douglas raced out of the lobby and stood in front of the motel. It was separated into three floors, two staircases leading to the second floor on the west and east ends of the building. Douglas took the west end staircase and came to his final stop: room 23. he stared at the door, wondering what he would expect to find behind it. _Maybe I should call the police, I'm not cut out for this, _a small voice in the back of his mind said. _He could be dangerous_...Douglas forced himself to stop that line of thinking. He _could _be dangerous, but what did Douglas have to lose anyway? If he were to die today, nobody would miss him. Douglas braced himself mentally, and with all his might, he kicked the door in. Before the door could even crash against the wall, he was already inside, his eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of movement, his hands clearing the area like he was some sort of unarmed SWAT member. Even in the darkness, there was still enough light from the outside to see the silhouette of a man seated next to a shabby bed. Douglas rushed the figure and pinned him against the wall. Their was a brief scuffle as both men tried to wrest control from the other. Douglas finally managed to bring James to the ground and apprehend him. James was screaming hysterically, so loud that the whole motel could probably hear him.

"MARY!!!!!!!! MARIA!!!!!!!!!! FORGIVE ME!!!!!!!!!!"

His screams then broke into uncontrollable sobs. Douglas had to control himself from just decking the guys to make him shut up. The way he screamed you would have thought he was a victim himself. Whoever that was on the tape was right: James's bridge of sin had broken a long time ago, he was just kept afloat by the love of his wife. When he lost that, he lost everything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_2 hours later..._

The sleazy motel had become a zoo of commotion. Curious on-lookers stood in door-ways and peered out of windows and scores more loitered around the perimeter to catch glimpses of what was going on, as police cordoned the area off to allow the Brahams medical examiner to cart Mary Shepard Sunderland's body away. The flashing lights from the squad cars cut through a thick pervading fog, giving the scene a dream-like quality.

Douglas Cartland leaned against a squad car, caught in the middle of all of the activity. He watched as the coroners wheeled Mary's body to the back of a white van. The whirring lights and noise of the crowds was starting to make him feel light-headed. He could see the gawking faces of the crowds, changing, becoming _wrong _some-how.

_Mr. Cartland._

He could feel their eyes watching him, mouths open in horror, becoming distorted, twisted. Douglas cleared his throat. He was terribly thirsty, he throat was aching, and despite the chill, beads of sweat began to form on his fore-head. _Hundreds of eyes, leering, fixated on him..._

"Mr. Cartland."

Douglas was snapped back to reality. The scene before him lay unchanged, as the van doors closed and sped away through the throngs of people.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cartland?" A tall middle-aged man in a casual black suit and trench coat stood before Douglas. "My name is detective Gans of the Brahams County Sheriffs Department, I'll like to ask you a few question."

"Sure, but do you think I can get a bottle of water or something? I'm dying here."

The detective smiled. "No problem, I'll be back."

The detective walked away, and Douglas continued to observe the hectic surroundings. Across the parking lot, he could see James Sunderland sitting in the back of one of the squad cars, slowly rocking back and fourth.

_Jesus...he's lost it._

James turned his face to the window and stared directly at Douglas. His mouth opened in a silent 'o' of horror as he began to silently scream from behind the bullet-proof glass.

Douglas tried to discern the words that were coming from him, he strained his eyes to see the movements of his mouth.

_Just what is he trying to say-----_

"Mr. Cartland."

Douglas jumped as his name was called yet again. He turned around and was greeted by detective Gans, extending a hand carrying a clear plastic cup of water.

"That's the second time you got the jump on me." Said Douglas good heartedly as he took the cup and drank down the water. It was cool and refreshing going down his aching throat and Douglas drank until there was nothing left. He wiped his mouth and faced the detective.

"Well, I can imagine you being a little jumpy, after this ordeal. So tell me, how did you get involved in this affair?" Gans said, obviously starting his questionings.

"I was hired by the perps father, Frank, to search for him and his missing wife Mary. I believe you already met her..." Douglas said, indicating the empty space where the coroners van was parked.

Gans nodded glumly. "Uxoricide..."

"Yep, Mary was terminally ill and bed ridden for about three years. I don't know if it was the stress that gad gotten to James or what, but he ended up abducting her, and...well, the rest is history."

_History..._that's what Douglas wanted to think, wanted to believe, but there was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that there was something more to the this story. _Perfume, I could have swore I smelled perfume..._

"This all sounds so interesting Mr. Cartland, but how did you come about Mr. Sunderland's whereabouts?"

_The tape deck..._

The mysterious voice that had somehow recorded over his cassettes. The icy, monotonous voice that had helped him to apprehend James Sunderland. Douglas didn't know why, or even how, it was all so surreal.

"Okay, I'm not too really sure myself, hell, I'm not even too sure if I still believe it, but when I was driving into Brahams, I began to fool around with my tape deck that I used to record the findings of the Sunderland Case. I put one of the tapes in, and you won't believe it, but the voice that came from the cassette wasn't mine. It was somebody else."

Gans narrowed his eyes. "Somebody else?"

"Yeah, it was somebody else on the tape. A man, he told me where to find James, and I followed his directions."

Douglas can see Gan's apprehension rising. "Can I take a look at these 'tapes' Mr. Cartland?"

"Sure..." 

Douglas went to his car and found the tape deck and the cassettes scattered about on the passengers seat. He quickly fetched them and made his way back to Detective Gans.

"Here they are." Douglas brandished the tape deck to Gans.

"You're a regular Sherlock Mr. Cartland." Gan's mocked.

"Haha, yeah, something like that." Cartland said, placing the tape he had heard the mysterious voice inside of the deck

"_**Today is September 24**__**th**__**, 2001. My name is Douglas Cartland. I am a private investigator assigned by one Frank Sunderland to partici..."**_

Douglas immediately pressed 'stop'. _I could have swore it was in the beginning..._

"Wait a minute," he said, fast forwarding the tape. When he pressed play again, it was still his own voice spilling out of the deck.

"_**While in the care of her husband, they both just simply vanished. I am not one to jump to con..."**_

_What...the...hell?_

"Maybe it's the wrong tape." Douglas said with a smile. That must have been it, he had put the wrong tape in. It was the only logical explanation, if anything in this whole affair could be considered "logical."

He put in the second tape and pressed play.

"_**Cartland here. I finally arrived in Silent Hill from my home office to begin my investi..."**_

_Click. _Something wasn't right. Douglas hurriedly took out the second tape and slapped in the third, only yo be greeted with his own voice yet again.

_Damn it, where the hell is the tape!?  
_

"Mr. Cartland..."

Douglas looked up from the tape deck and into the annoyed face of Detective Gans.

"I think we can call it a day for now, it's beginning to rain."

Through his agitation Douglas could feel the light patter of drizzle attack his shoulders and back. He looked up into the sky, and saw the dark storm clouds that had gathered. Detective Gans fished into his pocket and pulled out a slender card.

"Here, give me a call in the morning, perhaps after nine. I would like to go over more of the specifics of the case with you. You should go home, get some sleep." Said Gans, which Douglas translated as 'I don't believe a damn word you say, so go home and call me when you're done wasting my time.'

Douglas pocketed the card. The rain was coming down hard now, dissipating the crowds of people that still lingered.

"Take care of yourself Mr. Cartland." Said Detective Gans as he walked back to his car.

"Yeah, take care..." Douglas whispered. He was getting soaked to the bone, and for the first time since the ordeal he realized just how tired he really was.

_Man, what a day..._

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

That night, Douglas Cartland had perhaps one of the strangest dreams ever. It was a intense mosaic of sounds and sights, but through the haze of these fragmented images, one image persisted strong and graphic, so real that he could almost reach out and touch her...the image of Mary Shepard Sunderland.

_My God was she beautiful._

James Sunderland had been a lucky man. He could remember the picture Frank had showed him of his daughter in law, but no way did he think he could recall her face so vividly, every chestnut brown strand of hair immaculately placed on her perfect oval shape face, a warm and inviting smile parting her lips...

Some-where in his sea of unconsciousness, a noise was intruding, unwillingly bringing him back to the world of the living.

_What...the...Hell?_

Cartland opened his groggy eyes and stared at the sterile white ceiling of his room. Beside his bed, the telephone was bleating unrelenting, drowning out the silence Cartland had become all too familiar with. He reached over and grabbed the receiver, placing it against his ear.

"Hello?"

There was no answer, but Cartland could detect the faint sound of breathing coming from the other end.

"Hello?" He asked again louder.

"_**You did the right thing Mr. Cartland."**_

Cartland bolted up in bed, the receiver still pressed firmly against his ear. He recognized the voice speaking to him from the other end; he would never forget it. That same monotonous drawl that had seemingly possessed his tape deck during the investigation was now directly talking to him through the telephone.

"Who the hell is this?" Douglas breathed.

"_**I have no name, but in the mortal world I was known as Ernest Baldwin."**_

_Mortal world?_

"Just what do you mean by 'mortal world'?"

Cartland could hear the man, Ernest, chuckle on the other end. _**"The fallacy of human intuition. Please, just listen to me."**_

"Ok, I'm listening." What other choice did he have?

"_**Do you forgive him?"**_

The question took Cartland by surprise. "Forgive who?"

"_**James Sunderland. Do you forgive him?"**_

"It's not like I had an emotional investment in this case. It's out of my hands now. Leave it to God."

"_**I expected no less coming from you. James was a wicked man."**_

"You seem to be so content on judging him. Why? Sure, what he did was terrible, but you have to feel for the guy. His wife was terminally ill, probably no way to cure her. In his mind, he was freeing her from the pain. I just hope that she finally found peace, that's all."

Silence from the other end. Not even the faint breathing he had heard before.

"Hello?"

Ernest said nothing. Cartland pulled the phone away from his ear, and saw why there was no voice coming from the other end.

_I'll be damned..._

The phone cord lazily swayed back and fourth in the air, detached from the wall earlier in the day. Cartland sat the phone back down on the night stand, dumb founded at the revelation.

_Man, what a day..._


End file.
